Parallel Universes and the Problems They Cause
by IndigoClockwork
Summary: In a freak barrier-blurring between two parallel universes, Dib finds himself in the body of a Mary-Sue. How will he cope with his new-found Sueness? Will anything ever be the same again? Rated cause I like the letter T, obviously Mary-Sue warning.
1. DibClev, or It Begins

**Holy crap!** I'm not dead!

Sorry about the hiatus, everyone. All sorts of things started happening all at the same time and I'm afraid I got a bit distracted. But, neither rain nor hail nor sleet nor snow can stop me from writing bad fanfiction, so here is my latest offering.

Because at some point in every fanficcer's career, a Mary-Sue bashing is necessary.

_Parallel universes, as you know, are the result of two or more different outcomes of a situation happening at the same time. Reality splits, forming a sort of 'frayed-thread' pattern, in which all the infinite possibilities of every single situation that has ever occurred lie unnoticed side by side. Depending on the location of the split between them, the differences between two such universes can be anywhere from trivial to so mind-bendingly dissimilar that they are barely recognizable as having a common origin._

_It is a curious fact that, on extremely rare occasion, the boundaries between two such parallel universes will blur for a single moment. Such occurrences are far and few between; even when they do happen, they usually go unnoticed by both planes and result in nothing more than a strange but minor weather pattern._

_However, at a probability of approximately fifteen trillion, seven hundred billion, ninety-two million, four hundred and seventy-three thousand, five hundred and two (raised to the eight thousandth, nine hundred and twenty-seventh power) to one, such a blur can result in the switch of two separate individuals' minds._

_Needless to say, the results can be disastrous._

Dib woke up with a monstrous headache. It felt like a large and rusty vice had been clamped tightly around his head, and some invisible person was standing just next to him tightening it mercilessly. Even worse, he felt slightly off-balance somehow- like the earth beneath his feet had moved without informing him.

But, he was a paranormal investigator and these things happened from time to time. Quite likely he just had a minor fiend preying off his life force; if so, it wasn't anything three iron nails and a half-dead goat couldn't fix.

Wearily, he swung his legs sideways out of bed and rolled to his feet. Yawning and scratching his ribs, he wandered towards the door, noting that it seemed shinier somehow. He put out a hand and yipped a little as his fingers hit cold metal. _Huh,_ he thought. _Dad must have reinforced it last night after the walking dead incident. Shame, I liked that door…_

He walked on, still in a sleepy haze, down the hallway. It seemed to be longer this morning, and a lot colder. One of the ceiling lights must have been dying too, because the walls glowed with a flickering green light. _That's pretty sweet, I guess. I hope this isn't radioactive like last time._

He shuffled on, past Gaz's door and Dad's door and a couple other ones that he didn't seem to remember seeing before. But a human that has just awoken is by no means the most alert creature in the universe, so didn't give such details much thought.

Something was cooking in the kitchen, he noted dreamily, apparently uncaring as to the fact that the flight of stairs that usually separated his room and the kitchen had ceased to exist. There was a faint smell of burning, though, so it might just be Gaz messing with the Super Toaster again. It was only when he turned into the room that he began to notice that something was awry.

Huge green tubes lined the walls on either side, stretching up, up until their tips were lost in the shadowy ceiling. Some contained twisted bits of flesh that may or may not have been alive at some point. Between them was a wide walkway paved with a patchwork metal floor, with three tables lying in a row just ahead, thick straps positioned on them at roughly neck, wrist, and ankle height. Beyond that was only the murk of darkness. Even as Dib stared, something far off in the shadows gave an unearthly screech and skittered against an unseen surface.

He had just enough time to blearily comprehend that this was _not_ the kitchen when a pair of what he dearly hoped were arms wrapped around his waist and someone breathed in his ear, "Good morning, beautiful."

Dib nearly jumped out of his skin as he leapt away from whoever was behind him. Thankfully, they let go easily, with only a slight snagging of something sharp against his shirt. He dashed to one of the tubes, desperate to get something solid behind his back, before wheeling around to face-

"Zim?!"

The Irken tilted his head at him and smiled like it was perfectly normal that he should be here. "Of course," he said, in a curiously deep voice. "Were you expecting someone else?" Then suddenly his crimson eyes darkened and he frowned, as if he had realized some grave error. "I didn't scare you, did I? I know how jumpy you are some mornings."

Dib just stared. So many thoughts were rushing through his mind at that moment that he was amazed he wasn't babbling like an sugarhigh four-year-old. _Zim? Here? How? Why? Who? Where am I? Why is he hugging me? Why isn't there any toast? Where's Gaz? Where's Dad? Where am __I__? Why do I feel so stupid? What is the meaning of life? How did I end up here? And for the love of Bigfoot, what am I __wearing__?_ For Dib had just noticed that he was not, in fact, clad in his usual nightshirt, but what seemed to be a modified Irken tunic, complete with strategically placed holes and an unrealistically long train. It was very similar to Tak's, actually, except for the fact that it was blue and hers was purple.

Zim must have noticed the dumbstruck look on Dib's face, because he said, "Are you feeling all right? You look awfully pale."

Dib just stared some more. Since when had Zim cared about _anything_ that wasn't himself? Particularly Dib, his archenemy? And- when had he gotten so _tall_? The previously three-foot-something Irken was now at least six foot three, and appeared to wearing shredded jeans and a Maroon Five t-shirt instead of his usual tunic.

"What- what happened to you?" Dib croaked, surprising himself.

Zim looked about half as confused as Dib felt. Maybe less. "Nothing happened, sweetie. Are you sure you're feeling all right, Clev? You're a bit less green than normal today."

"'Less _green_'? What does that- what did you call me? _Sweetie_? Who's Cleve?" Every second that passed just seemed to add to the weirdness, Dib noted. Surely this was all breaking some obscure law of physics that dictated exactly how much bizarreness one minute could contain.

"No, silly," giggled Zim in an extremely creepy way. "Clev. You know, your nickname? Short for Clever Female Variation of Zim. And of course you're green. You're Irken, after all."

_Nickname? Clever Female Variation? Green? __Irken__? What in-_

And then it hit him, with the full force of a Greyhound bus doing eighty on the freeway.

Dib wheeled around to stare at the reflective surface of the tube, a cold, hard weight settling in his stomach. _Oh please no, oh God let me be wrong-_

Staring back at him was the horrified reflection of a female Irken, quite lovely even by human standards. Her eyes and Pak spots were delicate swirls of gold and pink, her skin a peridot green, and her antennae were slender and gracefully curled with each tip bearing a small gold ring. She wore the custom tunic Dib had noticed on himself earlier, all graceful rips and punkish stripes. Even her boots were unusual; she wore knee-length Converse sneaker-boots with unnecessarily large steel buckles on them.

"Oh no," Dib whispered. "I'm- I'm-" He put a hand dramatically on his chest and gasped, "I'm a _Mary-Sue_!"

Completely unable to understand why his girlfriend had sunk to the floor sobbing uncontrollably, Zim made a few cautious steps forward. "Of course you are, Clev. You have been ever since you came from Irk on a mission to assassinate me but instead fell madly in love." He wondered if perhaps Clev was having a memory block, due to some made-up problem that had never appeared in any canon source but the author had made up to give her a proper weakness. "See, FiFi's here to prove it."

"FiFi?" Dib moaned. "Let me guess, that's my SIR unit, isn't-"

"HI CLEV!!1!" Screamed a voice that sounded exactly like GIR's, only more obnoxious and slightly feminine, as a small and shiny SIR unit plummeted from the ceiling to land on Dib's- Clev's?- head. "AH MISSED YOU!!1!!1! WHERES YOU'S BEEN?!1?!1??1??"

"Oh god, get it off me!" Dib/Clev screamed, frantically pawing at his/her head, finally grabbing hold of the screaming robot and examining it at arm's length. "Why are its eyes pink?" she/he asked cautiously.

"So we can tell her apart from GIR because otherwise they're exactly the same." Zim said badly, apparently completely comfortable with stating the obvious over and over again. "Besides, pink is your signature color. Everything down to the upholstery on your ship that looks and acts exactly like Tak's except for the fact that it's pink is pink."

"Oh," Clev said with faint disgust, barely even recognizing that she had stopped thinking of herself as Dib. She dropped FiFi to the floor, where it began to suck on its toes.

Suddenly, it struck her that if she was no longer Dib- who was? "So, uh, that…Dub kid," she said in what she hoped was a casual manner. "Whatever happened to me- I mean him? Yeah."

"Oh, he died when we used him as a host for our eggs," Zim said cheerfully. "Quite painfully, too; they hatched out of his stomach and ate his brain. You picked him as the host because you don't like competition for my affection. Actually it was faintly strange, because our smeets' development didn't follow anything close to canon, but we loved them all the same."

_They __killed__ me? With __smeets__?!_ _How long has this been going on for?!_ Clev slowly backed away in horror, towards what she somehow knew was the exit. "That's- that's just great, uh, dear," she said through gritted teeth. "And where are our smeets now?"

"Taking over the earth for us," Zim said, still disturbingly perky. "They're so good at it."

For the part of Clev that used to be Dib, this was too much. She turned tail and fled into the darkness, screaming like a maniac.

"Come back, Clev!" yelled Zim, running after her. "We have to meet with the Vortian embassy at twelve!"

"_What_?!" came the faint echo of Clev's voice.

"Yeah, we rule the Irken Empire now and stuff!" Zim hollered back. "Ever since you killed both Tallest using only your bare hands and a garden trowel!"

His only answer was the slowly dying sound of Clev's horrified screaming.

* * *

So there you are. I'll update _Mechanical Mind_ sometime this week, I promise. Until then, review like you have never reviewed before and I will love you forever blah blah blah.


	2. Zalim and Cattivo

_Hello, all. I have returned at long last, as to what I am sure is your immeasurable relief._

_Yeah, okay. Sorry bout the long wait; I am a horrible timewaster. So- here is the second part of what I shall from now on refer to as Paraverse. About the same length, with even more cliched goodness, and TWO MORE Mary-Sues for your reading pleasure._

_And you thought it couldn't get any worse..._

* * *

Daybreak. Thick brown clouds drowned out the weak rays of light from an inexplicably huge sun, turning the landscape sepia like an old-fashioned photograph. The twisted hulk of what might have been a metal building at one long-gone point lurched pathetically, jutting above a collection of other, equally dilapidated structures. Long, dully shining metal shards looped out of the ground like horribly perverse dinosaur bones, a testimony to the terrible destruction that buried even more buildings under the parched earth. The effect was one of a bloodstained, warped metal graveyard, and it was all extremely dramatic.

But of course, one cannot focus on a post-apocalyptic scene this long without having a character hidden among the wreckage, and so there was.

"Day…uh…I don't know, twenty-one I think," Clev-who-was-once-Dib murmured into the voice recorder spiking out from her Pak, her strangely adorable mouth mere centimeters away from the microphone. "No sign of Zim or the smeets. All is normal. Have been hiding in the old Membrane labs and speaking in fragments for a while now. FiFi is my only company." She crouched down instinctively as a ship went screaming overhead, waiting until the sound of the engines had died. "The Earth has been completely transformed. Tacos, piggies, everywhere. Oh, the piggies…" her left eye twitched in what should have been comic relief but had been so overused by this point that any semblance of humor had been long since lost.

"I fear that I am losing my mind. How long has it been since I fled from the lab? Two weeks, perhaps?" she said in what was a convenient vehicle for both exposition and a chance to show some plot development. "If I cannot escape soon, I will have no choice but to use the suicide button bizarrely located on my necklace that…just…appeared…" Clev fingered the massive blood-red ruby pendant around her slender neck, not really surprised anymore. Her outfit, body, and general appearance were subject to change frequently and without notice.

She took another deep, theatrical breath and whispered harshly, "I plan to leave tonight, just after the sun sets because that's really dramatic and stuff. Soon, I will have my revenge on Zim. Soon, I will escape this horrible twisted reality. Soon-"

"HI CLEV!!1!!1!! YOUS MAH FRIEND!!1!!" screamed an extremely obnoxious voice very similar to GIR's. Clev gasped again and turned around, only to have her head become the endpoint for FiFi's fall from the blasted ceiling. The tiny pink-eyed robot squealed and skittered all over Clev's head like a hyperactive squirrel. "WHEN'S WE GONNA LEAVE??1!!"

Clev didn't bother to question the fact that the usually flaky FiFi had somehow comprehended that she planned to finally leave her refuge. Minor details like that were constantly being overridden for the sake of plot convenience. Clev plucked the defective SIR unit off her head and wheeled her around happily, screeching, "Tonight, FiFi! Tonight, we leave this hellhole once and for all! Tonight, we exact our terrible revenge on Zim for an unclearly described reason! Ahahahaha!!" Clev's laugh was extremely similar to Tak's; it had the same pitch, tone, and usually the same causes. In fact, Clev herself appeared to be merely a spunkier and more attractive version of the violet-eyed Invader. But that's not important right now, 'cause I'm about to introduce a major plot twist!

"Mom! Thank Irk we've found you! We were starting to think you'd already fled in disgrace."

Clev wheeled around, slamming FiFi into a wall and drawing a _very_ long and nasty-looking knife from her lacy black bra. In the same instant, her spider legs exploded from her Pak and sent her rocketing up to the ceiling, where she scuttled into lunging position with the knife held out beneath her. Her eyes swirled into a pulsing black, and her antenna inexplicably gained several sharp spines.

"Who are you?" she screeched above the sharp clicking of the spider legs as they extended all sorts of nasty-looking blades.

There was a sort of confused mumbling from the doorway Clev could no longer see, and then two voices said at once, "We're your smeets."

Clev felt herself fall from the ceiling but didn't register the pain when she hit the floor. Standing before her were two nearly-identical young Irkens, each about five foot four and wearing matching black tunics. One was female, with Clev's pink-and-gold eyes and beautiful face, her uniform tight in all the right places and her boots massive and chained. Her antennae were even more pierced than her mother's, and what wasn't covered by the uniform- which was a lot- bore a fine skin of fishnet. She smiled nervously, displaying small shark-like teeth.

The male coughed at Clev's staring, and she transferred her vicious black gaze to him, twirling the long knife slowly. He was stockier than his sister, but shared her raptorlike elegance and sharp teeth. He resembled Zim quite a bit; he shared the same crimson eyes that held a promise of madness beyond reason, and the same way of exuding confidence without really doing anything at all. His tunic was covered in thick silver buckles and unnecessary straps and appeared to glow a soft red in the post-apocalyptic light.

The female lifted a delicate claw and waved a cautious hello. She spoke in a tone that had all of Clev's casual grace and a hint of Zim's insane screech. "Hi, mom. I'm Zalim, and this is Cattivo." She gestured to the male, who gave a bow that would have looked completely idiotic in any other situation but looked okay here because this is my fanfiction and I make things look cool if I want to so there. "We just got back from finishing our Invader training, and we thought we'd stop by so you and Dad could give us our assignments, 'cause you're the Tallest and get to do stuff like that."

The male- Cattivo, apparently, which means 'vicious' in Italian because he's fierce like that and it's a cool name (courtesy of )- cut in and said in a smooth yet energetic baritone, "Imagine our surprise when you weren't there! Dad said you'd run off in a panic, screaming something about not being in your right mind or whatever. Naturally we were concerned, so we used the super-special earrings we all share to track you down."

Clev, less concerned that she had children she'd never seen before than by the fact that she'd be found, wrinkled her gorgeous brow and said, "What earrings? And how come Zim didn't try that before now?"

Zalim- incidentally yet another foreign word for 'vicious'- rolled her beautiful eyes and Cattivo laughed in a very Zim-like way. The former giggled and said, "Silly! He couldn't do that at all. That'd completely throw the plotline off course."

To Clev, this was a perfectly acceptable reason, so she ignored it and snarled, "If you're my smeets, why don't I recognize you? And why are you training to be Invaders anyway?"

Zalim and Cattivo adopted identical expressions of shock and confusion that will be duly ignored because they're both Mary-Sues and don't really notice or care when vital plot points have to be explained over and over again. Cattivo cleared his throat and quipped, "We've been away for over an Irken year, Mom. That's like four Earth years or whatever. We've grown." He spread his arms in a look-at-how-gorgeous-I-am kind of way that had melted the hearts of many a female would-be Invader back on whatever planet he'd trained on.

Zalim picked up the explanation, saying, "We're going to be Invaders just like you and Dad! All we have to do is conquer a minor planet to prove our worth, which didn't ever happen in the show but is now necessary because the author said so. It's the greatest career any Irken could ever aspire to! Except being Tallest, of course," she added with a respectful half bow that followed the same rule as Cattivo's had earlier.

Clev stared, still distrustful but willing to accept that these really were her brood. They looked enough like her and Zim to be believable, and most Mary-Sue authors didn't have the foresight or motive to set up decoys this early in a story. Slowly she nodded and slid the knife back into her bra, where it impossibly fit amongst the laser pistol, chainsaw, miniature cannon, lock picking set, chain whip, regular whip, even larger knife, and other various weapons she kept in there.

Zalim and Cattivo visibly relaxed, glad that they wouldn't have to face their formidable mother in combat. Even together, they wouldn't have stood half a chance against Clev, who was infamous across the galaxy for her unbeatable fighting skills. In fact, that was how she had met Zim- in a tooth-and-nail fight to the death aboard a plague-infected ship that had remained untaken by the rampaging space pirates because of its infection. But that had turned out okay in the end.

She planted her feet and shoulder width and declared imperiously, "Very well. Take me to Zim."

Her two smeets bowed in sync, pushing away the twisted remains of the once-great door to the ruined laboratory. Clev strode out like the Tallest she was, eying the enormous, heavily modded Spittle Runner that hovered an inch above the withered ground like a waiting shark. She strode toward it, whistling for FiFi and her smeet-spawn.

The twins scurried to her call, getting the ship, the IMS _Deathfell_, up and flying in a matter of minutes. As they soared over the wastelands like an enormous hawk on the hunt for whatever gods-forsaken morsel crawled across its path, Clev stroked the back of FiFi, who had suddenly gained the ability to transform into a mechanical dragon the size of a greyhound. Not that any Irken even knew what a greyhound _was_, but hey. FiFi purred and arched her back under Clev's hand as Zalim and Cattivo murmured to each other in the cockpit.

It wouldn't be so bad being a Tallest, Clev decided. The almost-fight had brought out her evil side, as reflected by her still-black eyes and spiky black tattoos that appeared all over her body when she was angry. With the physical transformation came a dark desire for the immense power that the post of Tallest gave; the very thought of it made Clev drag her wormlike tongue along her jagged teeth, drawing sweet, sweet blood.

_Imagine,_ whispered the darkness that even now was filling her soul, _imagine a world- no, a universe!- completely under my control. The battles, the fights, the power! Oh sweet Irk, the __**power**__…_

Yes, Clev decided, now firmly rooted in her vicious battle mode. Being a Tallest could turn out to be a very pleasant thing indeed. She started to laugh, a deep husky laugh delivered in a voice completely unlike her usual tone. It sent rivers of frost down the spines of the twins, who shuddered even as FiFi began to join in with a long, wolf-like howl.

The _Deathfell_ zoomed silently through the night like the shadow of death itself, trailing dark laughter like the petals of a dying rose.

* * *

_So there you are, loves. A bit more serious- do you like it? **READ**: If you want, I can keep this light and ridiculous, or I can turn this into a_ real _story, complete with plot-twisting goodness and all that nonsense. Your choice. Please do note that, should you choose the more serious option, this story will_ not_, under any circumstances, ever cease to be a Mary-Sue mockery. It will merely become a bit more realistic._

_And- I am so terribly sorry about this, but The Curious Workings of a Mechanical Mind is going on a hiatus (like it wasn't on one already...). I will finish it, just not at the moment. This little beastie right here and real life are getting in the way, unfortunately._

_Review if you have even the smallest fragment of compassion in your soul, and don't forget to tell me your preference (see **READ** up there)._


	3. ClevDib, or It Begins

_I'm tired. This is the only introduction you're going to get. _

_If you're new here, keep in mind that **THIS IS A PARODY**. **THIS IS NOT HOW I USUALLY WRITE. DO NOT WRITE ME A REVIEW TELLING ME HOW BAD MY WRITING IS. I KNOW.**_

_I don't own Invader Zim: the most noble Jhonen Vasquez and, unfortunately, Nickelodeon do. I do own Clev, Zalim, Cattivo, and FiFi. Probably some other stuff I'm forgetting here, but whatever._

* * *

Clev woke up with a monstrous headache

Clever Female Variation of Zim woke up with a monstrous headache. It felt like a large and rusty vice had been clamped tightly around her head, and some invisible person was standing just next to her tightening it mercilessly. Even worse, she felt slightly off-balance somehow- like the earth beneath her feet had moved without informing her.

But, she was a Mary-Sue and these things happened from time to time. Quite likely she had merely fallen into a dimensional rift and was now part of some horrible crossover; if so, it wasn't anything three iron nails and a half-dead goat couldn't fix.

She rolled out of bed with cat-like grace, jumping a little as her bare feet hit the floor. Where were her massive combat boots that she wore very single second of every single day? It wasn't like her to change outfits to sleep, unless doing so had some significance to the plot- like appearing in sexy lingerie, for instance. That was always really important because my character is teh sexy!!

Clev padded down the hallway, very aware that she was not in the right body and all because she's awesome and has super senses and stuff but ignoring it because I need her to be really surprised in about nine paragraphs. She brushed the wall with her hand as she walked by it, confused at the smooth plaster that covered it. Shouldn't the walls be made of metal? And the floors? And shouldn't those hall lights be glowing an eerie green instead of fluorescent yellow?

She stopped at the top of a long flight of stairs, wondering when those had gotten there and why there wasn't an elevator instead. The carpeting on the stairs confused her as well; why bother covering the steps with fabric if your foot was only going to make contact for a moment? If you haven't noticed by now, I'm been drawing a direct parallel with the first chapter. Hell, the first two paragraphs up there were just copy-pasted and then altered to fit the situation.

Clev, always the drama queen, opted to slide down the railing instead of walking down like the human she now was. Needless to say, her new body was not nearly as awesome as her old one and the cruel forces of Fate conspired to make her fall off after two feet and plummet the rest of the way down the staircase. She screamed as soon as she felt her strangely large head hit the stairs, wondering in frantic bewilderment why this was happening. She was a Mary-Sue, for heaven's sake! She wasn't even supposed to be capable of _thinking_ anything ungraceful!

But ungraceful she now was, facedown on the first step with her legs comically curled backwards over her head. Angrily she recovered, brushing the dust off her bare, pale arms. _Hmm? Pale?_

Both of her arms were a perfect ivory, the color of a creature who has not seen the sun in far too long. It would have been appealing on a female body, but the creature that Clev now inhabited was most definitely male, to judge by the reek of unwashed teen. She stared in growing horror at her skin, dragging her eyes farther downward to examine her short, sweat-panted legs. What was happening? Where were her chains, her belts, her numerous and highly impractical weapon holsters? Why did she smell like a laundry pile? Why did she feel the urge to _shave_? And for the love of Irk, what was she doing _shirtless_?!

"Put some clothes on, Dib. You look like even more of a freak than usual," drawled a dry, bored monotone that rasped unpleasantly in Clev's ears. _Huh?_ She reached up to touch the newfound hearing organs but was distracted as a small and very scary looking human child appeared around the corner.

The girl was short, _very_ short, with the huge head of the young and wearing a black skull dress with striped stockings. She was carrying some sort of beeping electronic plaything, glancing up from it only once to give Clev a glare that made her want to whimper and hide under the sofa. She could have made a very nice Mary-Sue if she was only a little taller and wearing significantly more pointless accessories.

"Make me breakfast. Toast. Butter. Bacon. Don't burn it." The girl vanished around the stairwell again without ever seeming to move, her last line just enough of a threat to be intimidating but not enough to feel justified about fearing it. The effect of a demon-child was very well played out, and Clev found herself admiring the girl's style. Perhaps she would try it out later, only sexier. Horns, maybe, and a fiery whip.

Busy planning her next cliché, Clev almost missed the most crucial moment in this chapter.

Well, all right, she didn't really almost miss it. It's not like I said, "Oh crap, I almost forgot to have Clev realize she's a human now." No. That little one-liner up there is intended purely for dramatic effect. You're just going to have to get used to this sort of thing because it happens a lot. Go back and read the earlier chapters if you don't believe me. (If you just came in and started reading this before the first two chapters, shame on you. However, this is a good time to read the other bits under the pretext of being a dutiful reader. See, aren't I a good author? Now shut up and let me finish.)

It was quick, a mere flash of flesh in a hallway mirror, but Clev was a highly trained Invader/Tallest/assassin/mercenary/pirate/ninja/whatever she originally was so she knew that these kind of things are important. She whirled back around to stare at a horrified human teenager leering pitifully out of the mirror.

Lanky black hair drooped around an enormous head, sweeping up in a hopeful scythe near the forehead only to end in a disappointed spike. Huge, mournful brown eyes accosted Clev- Dib, really- as if seeking some small fragment of mercy that they knew never existed. A disturbingly large head tapered to a thin, awkward neck, then to a wormlike chest with almost no muscle definition. A faint air of pathetic desperation hung about the boy in the mirror, like a puppy abandoned on a rainy winter night except that most puppies are cute and this boy was decidedly not.

Slowly, with a badly shaking hand, Clev reached up to brush her- _his_- own face, hoping to whatever gods existed in this universe that the reflection wouldn't do the same. His hoping was in vain; the mirror boy lifted a pale, almost femininely slender hand to his pockmarked face with a look of utter horror on his teenaged face.

Clev-who-was-now-Dib sunk to his knees, not even spared the comfort of looking away from the floor-length mirror. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no, no…."He clawed pathetically at his reflection, voicing a series of frantic moans that increased in volume and intensity until he finally screamed, "I'm a _canon character_!"

He continued wailing for nearly thirty seconds until the frightening girl-child appeared once more and sneered, "If you really have to be such a freak, do it outside. But make me breakfast first or I'll tell Dad about the walking dead in the basement."

"I said I was sorry about that!" Dib cried, then slapped a hand over his mouth. What was he even talking about? What did walking dead have to do with anything? And who was this scary human smeet?"

_Gaz. Sister. Not to be crossed._ The memory popped up and then vanished in an instant, leaving Dib more confused than ever. He was _related_ to the demon child? What kind of genetic cross had that particular mix arisen from? Sweet mother of Irk, what were his _parents_ like?

"Breakfast, Dib. I'm waiting." Dib started, not realizing that the girl was still there, only to discover that she wasn't. Faint beeping sounds came from a room on the other side of the staircase. Shaking off a case of the shivers, Dib climbed to his feet. It was probably in his best interest to obey the scary sister-creature.

The only problem was that Dib had no idea what breakfast was.

It was an exhausted, oil-spattered, and badly burned Dib that handed Gaz a tray with three slices of buttered toast (the fourth had been burned to ashes inside something called a "SuperToaster") and several strips of slightly overcooked bacon (Dib had gone through three packages in a noble attempt to figure out how exactly one goes about cooking bacon). He held his breath as Gaz looked over the meager breakfast, gave Dib a look that clearly said he could have done better, and engulfed the whole meal in less than four seconds. She hopped off the couch, wiping her mouth on a throw blanket, and vanished again.

It took Dib a few seconds to realize that the tray was inexplicably back in his hands, and that a towel had been thrown at his head and was blocking his line of sight considerably. Pulling the towel off, he stared at the tray in his hands, empty of even the slightest crumb. His stomach rumbled angrily, and he realized that he hadn't eaten anything since last night…whenever that was. And all the food he had just made had gone towards Gaz.

Briefly he considered having a go at the bacon again, but then a blaring siren interrupted his thoughts. "ALERT! ALERT! HOUSE DENIZEN: '…Dib?'… IS IN TERMINAL DANGER OF: 'spontaneous combu-' _chckfzzzchkck_ '…being late for Skool'. THIS IS THE **ONLY** WARNING YOU WILL RECEIVE. HAVE A NICE DAY."

The booming mechanical voice caught Dib off guard. He whirled around and demanded to know which impertinent robot slave had dared to address him in such a manner, but was greeted only by silence. Somewhere far away he heard Gaz mumble, "Freak…"

He was just recovering his nearly nonexistent dignity when something unseen and unpleasant squealed loudly nearby. A wave of diesel-perfumed air leeched in through a window, nearly making Dib choke. The tiny voice inside his head that had recognized Gaz immediately spoke up, whispering, _The bus! The bus! Backpack! Leave! Late for Skool Bitters will leech the life from my veins! Go! Now!_

Moving more by instinct that anything, Dib stumbled towards the door, snatching up a red satchel that felt as if it were filled with several medium-sized rocks. He struggled with the doorknob for a moment, and then flew towards the bus, barely making it in time. He scrambled up the stairs and was slammed into the nearest seat as the bus driver did her best to reach eighty on a cul-de-sac.

Someone behind him giggled maliciously, and a sneering voice asked, "Late again, loser? Wassa matter, too busy making out with your boyfriend behind the couch to catch the bus?"

Poor, poor Clev-who-is-now-Dib. Not even the harshest military training Irk has to offer course possibly prepare him for the horrors of the public education system.

* * *

_It's short because I'm tired. We have already discussed this. Review and I'll love you forever oh sweet Lady Godiva make the writing stop..._


End file.
